


Aurea Amatores

by vacantb



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Ancient Greece & Rome, Alternate Universe - Greek Mythology, Alternate Universe - Slavery, Body Worship, Clothing Kink, Consensual Kink, Deities, Demigods, Dom/sub Undertones, Drunk Sex, Explicit Sexual Content, Feminization, Gay Sex, Greek and Roman Mythology - Freeform, Healing Sex, Historical Inaccuracy, Implied/Referenced Torture, Implied/Referenced Underage Sex, Loss of Virginity, Love at First Sight, M/M, Minor Original Character(s), Multi, Name Changes, Oracles, Oral Fixation, Past Abuse, Prophecy, Slave Trade, Slavery, Strangers to Lovers, Touch-Starved, Visions in dreams, Water Sex, Wet Clothing Kink, feminine credence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-14
Updated: 2018-12-09
Packaged: 2019-05-09 07:38:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,238
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14711885
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vacantb/pseuds/vacantb
Summary: Born an orphan on the ruthless streets of Athens, Credence has learned to be adaptive; tending to a temple as a slave adopted by Ma. He's never known kindness or love, told all his life that he is cursed with unnatural beauty that tempts the most noble of men. Credence strongly believes the Gods have a purpose for him and by an Oracles vision; Credence is warned that he will meet his fate but it will be in gold and blood. When he is traded off to Rome as a slave on the market, his fate ends up in the hands of the Emperor of Rome--King Percival Graves, known as the Destroyer of cities and conqueror of lands, but the Roman people call him the King of Gold.





	1. The Calling

**Author's Note:**

> helllloooo, this was based of an aesthetic edit I did on tumblr... @ vacantbloodbones  
> This is honestly shameless self-indulgent writing, I hope I don't butcher history too much but this is most definitely not historically accurate.  
> I really try my best to make it believable.  
> Please give me kudos/feedback!

Aurea Amatores  
  
  
  
  
The Calling  
  
-  
  
  
Credence earliest memory of living in Athens was waking up to the sun of Helios warming his skin, the floral smell of anemones against the breeze as they tickled his cheeks, and the sight of the myrrh tree above him. He didn’t have a memory of a mother or father, just the name Crēdentēs embedded in his head, like the Gods had whispered to him an unknowing purpose to his name; it meant belief, and Credence wanted to believe in a higher purpose to his existence and what the Gods had instore for him.  
  
The Gods made him an orphan in Athens, and being an orphan led Credence to being disposable to the entrapment of slavery, but it was a common placement for those lost and with no bloodline ties to royalty, property, or political significance. His value was based in his ability to understand numbers, wit, and adaptability at a very young age in the streets of Athens. Μαριάμ—Mariam, or as she preferred to be called Ma, had taken Credence in at an early age from the ruthless streets; she caught him cheating in a Tavli game, she observed his ability to count and play ahead of his opponents on the steps leading to the Parthenon. He would gamble his way into avoiding the brothels that beckoned him to become a slave to forced pleasure.

Credence feared that he would end up there in the brothels, the thought of men’s lusting eyes that matched only to that of Hades taking Persephone, tricking him into spending half of the year trapped in an underworld of being physically exploited was death in his eyes. He accepted being a slave for Ma, his gift of logic and beauty held him at a usable body in the temple she tended over. Ma would remind him daily that he was cursed with a foul presence of unnatural splendour, and that fate had brought him in as a spectacle for the temple, bringing in curious eyes as many found his feminine beauty enthralling to observe. If he were to ever leave, the Gods would punish him for his traitorous acts as he belonged wholly to the temple and Gods themselves, as Ma put it in her circadian orations to him.  

Credence daily routines were of no fun or hopefulness, he was punished by Ma with whips to his hands if he dare get near anyone that visited the temple or so much as make eye contact. He was reduced to an eye display in the shadows, he thought of himself as the statues in the gardens he would sneak out at night to see, as Modestia, another slave to the temple adopted by Ma, would join him in their rebellious acts under the safeguard of Artemis light in the night. Modestia was the closest to a friend that Credence had in the temple, unlike Castitas that was loyal to Ma’s word and would relish in watching Ma’s wrath of punishment towards Modestia and himself. They understood each other well, Modestia was an orphan like him but she did not share the same harsh punishments from Ma like Credence did.    
  
Credence was always treated differently among the rest of the orphaned slaves, and he knew he would find a way out of the temple and Ma’s vengeful ire, it was as if Enyo herself had poured the need for bloodshed and pain into the woman. For years she struck hurt and fear into him with whips and venomous words, and the older he got the sterner Ma became. He noticed the girls in the temple giving him envious stares as he grew into a young man but his features tricked many into seeing him as girlish. He did not understand why the girls envied him, with ugly markings that lined his hands and malnourished features that made his bones stick out sordidly through his chiton, his thick black hair curled and frizzed at shoulder length from lack of care. He rarely got sunlight in the day because of his duties bound him to the temple, making his skin pale and milky. He rarely slept in the night, too fearful that Phobetor would terrorize him in the form of monsters in his dreams, like the teachings he would overhear in other temples he was forced to collect scrolls from in the day.  


Credence was used to the smells of various incense burning in the temples, the scent always lingering on him like a promise that he would always return to worship the Gods. He was bound by word and body, and as Ma put it, the temple honoring Artemis only wanted chaste, untouched slaves to serve it. On the seventh day of the Thargelion month it was the one festival Credence loved, Thargelia; where fruits and offerings were given to Apollo and Artemis honoring them; the smell of laurel incense burned in generous amounts for everyone to have good harvest came upon Athens in an array of celebrations and good tidings.

  
While everyone was enjoying the festivities, Ma and the other girls tending to duties and celebration, Credence was drawn to the forest outside of Athens. He escaped Ma’s usual close supervision in the crowd during the high point of the day, where it became a sea of bodies drunk off wine and steering animals as they prepared sacrifices for the Gods. As he got further out of the city, where he was sure Apollo had made the sun blinding and the air humid just to spite him for not joining in the ceremonies and neglecting his duties; sneaking off was by most accounts an absolute dishonor. But he felt a need to follow a voice that had been calling him in the night since he could remember, a woman’s voice that summoned him in the quietest moments when he’d give his mind over to the Gods in the temple. He watches sheep being herded on the path as he made his way up to the mountain side, it was like a trance as his feet led him where his heart never had the courage to go before. Following the voice was a risk, it was fortuitous of him as he always kept himself fearful of Ma’s punishments.  
  
It was calling upon him, something or someone was guiding him; Credence thought it was the Moirai perhaps snaring him and finally deciding his destiny or planning his death. The further up the beaten path he went the louder the voice became, and the smell of incense guided him to a cave on the mountainside. The cave looked untouched by nature, the cold slabs of rock shaping three-sided walls into a narrow hall. Credence swallowed, his throat tightening as the fear of the unknown was trying to halt him from entering the cave; he forced himself to be more curious than brave as he took a step into the cave. The scent of frankincense became stronger the further he walked, he was shaking as his hand touched the smooth side of the wall.

“ _Puer_ , don’t be shy,” the woman’s voice resounded gently like a whisper in the hall. “I’ve been waiting for you.”

Credence shivered, he wanted to run the opposite way and go back to the festival. He felt foolish for having gone so blindly into the unknown but his heart told him it was meant to be, that the Gods had planned this all along.

Beyond the smoke of burning incense and various objects littered on the hollowed area that ended the long path, the room was alight with candles scattered around. There sat an elderly woman covering her head with her himation, her hands hovering over small bones and various leafs, he could feel her smile in spite the darkness that veiled him from properly seeing her; he trembled as his knees buckled before Credence could make any sense of the ominous situation. He knew what she was, without a word spoken; he eavesdropped on so many temple slaves and attendees whispering about her; in fear, admiration, suspicion, about how anyone who could befall onto her in the flesh were granted the words of wisdom or demise from the Gods… an Oracle.

He sat across from her, Credence hands shook like they did when Ma lashed them at the temple when he made mistakes, like dropping a candle or not being on time for offerings. His eyes stung from the holy incense and poor lighting, tears forming on the corners but Credence dare not move to wipe them away. It was not until the Oracle outstretched her hands in the circle they sat in that was painted with language of old, involuntarily Credence followed her and his hands were soon clasped into her icy cold ones.  
  
Credence couldn’t supress the gasp that escaped from his lips, he could sense the tacit magic that flowed through her. It was true as the whispers between people said in Athens, a feeling that was like touching the Gods, powerful and intoxicating.   

“ _Puer_ , do not fear me,” her eyes were a blue that reminded Credence of the ocean at the point when the sun went down and it was swallowed by the sea; rich with color, her eyes looked as if they too could pull the sun down into the depthless orbs. “You’ve been asking the Gods for answers on your fate… they’ve called upon me to voice them.”

“I…” his throat clenched as if pneuma was being pulled out of him. All he could manage was a trembling whisper as his head bowed, “Thank you…”   

“You feel it, don’t you? The Gods presence… like me, you feel the divine voices work through you…” She smiles knowingly, her eyes crinkling on the side. Her words made Credence heart race as he nodded nervously, her ability of sight was as inebriating as her presence. “They’ve told me of your fate… your truth will be not here in Athens under the Gods eyes, you will come upon your fate in blood and gold…”  
  
Credence’s eyes felt heavy as the Oracles words seeped into his thoughts like thick honey, “I… Don’t understand.” He managed with each blink to defeat the blanket of sleepiness that overtook him.

“You will be tested soon, _puer_ … Your true nature will be soon…”  

He recalled the image of the sun and gold coins he did not recognize falling to him, as his arms outstretched to try and catch them; then it began to rain blood and the sound of people screaming booming loud. He awoke alone in the cave, his heart racing as he realized it was empty; the only light permitting from the entrance was of Artemis. Credence lethargically picked himself up, silently cursing to the Gods that he had unwillingly fallen asleep and now he was going to have to face the wrath of Ma’s lashings.  

Walking back to Athens, Credence wondered of the vision he had, but also the Oracles burdening words as it all felt like a warning rather than his fate being brought to light. As he enters the cities pavilion, people still going well into the night in the festivities, drunk off wine and good tidings, Credence weaves through bodies as he wanted to sneak back into the temple without Ma’s knowledge. He would do his best to avoid Ma’s ire and venomous punishments.

Credence thanked the Gods that Ma was fast asleep as he entered the temple with silence greeting him. He would always take silence over Ma’s vengeful ways, as he did his best to get back into his chamber where a straw bed with old woven fabric awaited him to sleep on. It took him by surprise to see Modestia seated by his door waiting for him, when their eyes met she stood up.

“Come, let’s walk in the gardens…” She bids in a murmur.   

They walk in silence, under the watchful eye of Artemis as they come upon their favorite spot where the statue of Aphrodite stood, Credence always loved Aphrodite’s grace and beauty; sometimes he wish he had the same power of beauty and be like her son, Eros, able to be desirable and have sensual influence. A shameful longing he kept close to his heart as he gazed up at the statue of the Goddess.

He bowed his head from meeting Aphrodite’s eyes as he could feel himself blush. What he didn’t anticipate was Modestia’s face sharing the same pink coloring adorning her cheeks as well. It didn’t take long as she finally permitted the words she had probably held back all day, “I met a man at the festivities today…”

It came as a surprise to Credence that Modestia got out of Ma’s scrutiny to meet a man, she continues in a gentle tone, “He’s from Sparta…”

“Modestia…” Credence couldn’t withhold the fear that wrapped around his vocals, it was forbidden to speak to men, let alone, a Spartan.

“I know,” she hangs her head for a moment, then lifts her gaze to the moon, “he promises to run away with me, Credence… he wants to marry me in Sparta, he’s of an influential family…”

“When do you plan to run from here?” He asks somberly, seeing Modestia for a first, happy.

“Sundown tomorrow…, I have a chance to have a future, I can have a family I’ve never had, Credence…”

“Do you love him?”

She nods, “Yes.”   

He felt himself smile as he embraced Modestia, “I’m happy for you, he’s lucky to have you.”

Modestia playfully shoves Credence away, “Don’t speak that way, I’ll cry.”

They both laugh as they stare at Aphrodite together, Credence allowing himself to hold Modestia’s hand knowing it may be the last time he would be able to do so. He looked at her as the closest to a friend he had in the temple.

When Credence awoke in his chamber to Modestia’s screaming echoing in the temple, he leaped to his feet and ran towards her scream. He didn’t expect to see men grabbing Modestia, Credence didn’t know what possessed him, perhaps to was Artemis’ strength that gave him the will to get between the men that were attempting to drag Modestia out. The men gruffly shoved Credence to the ground as Modestia begged why Ma brought men in the temple to take her.  

It was Castitas that had betrayed Modestia as Ma announced, “Castitas has told me what you’ve done to defile our sacred oath… speaking and planning to elope with a man…”

Credence’s eyes widen in shock as Modestia sobs, her fear cutting deep into his heart as Ma continued, “If you wish to be _Pornai_ then you will be sold as one.”

“She didn’t do anything wrong,” Credence rasped in a desperate plea, “Castitas was mistaken, it was me… I saw a man in secret… I desired to elope, I broke our sacred oath, Ma!”

Ma’s eyes penetrated terror into Credence as she blinked away the contempt in her features, “Take him, leave her.”

In a quick motion, the men scooped Credence from the temple floor into their grips, Modestia didn’t hold back the tears as she cried for Credence to not be taken. He forced himself to try his best not to cry in front of everybody but the tremors that overtook him couldn’t hide how frightened he was, as he whisper to Modestia, “It’s going to be okay. You’re going to be safe, the Gods will protect you.”

The men laughed as they threw a sack of drachma to Ma’s eager grips, Credence kept his eyes on Modestia as he wanted to not forget her face. He knew she would escape Ma’s ire and be in the arms of a man she loved, and that gave him comfort to know she would not be forced into the world that Credence would never wish upon Modestia—being a _Pornai_ for anyone to defile. The men throw him into a cage and toss him a cloak as they chortled at how scrawny he is for a man, bounding him in shackles and chains that bruised his pale flesh.

“He looks nothing like a man, no wonder he was a slave to this temple, but his beauty will make us rich back in Rome!” the one man declares in a hardy laugh.

  
As the chariot moved away from the temple and Athens became distant, Credence silently prayed for Modestia’s safety. Credence would do his best to survive, because he was a survivor all his life. He fought against all odds to be alive, and nothing would change that for him. Even if he was going to be sold off in Rome, he would keep his head down, and beg to Athena that she would give him strength to endure the hardships that lay ahead for him.  
  
  
-   
  
  



	2. the Path to Fate

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Credence is forced to make his way to Rome, he questions his fate and the Gods alike. He begins to wonder what his fate truly is and why the Gods have punished him to be traded in Rome.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HI!  
> I'm sorry this took so long, but next chapter is Credence meeting his fate... *cough* Graves *cough*  
> I hope you are all enjoying the added OC characters and Credence having such a heavy character development before he meets his destiny!  
> Feedback, comments and kudos help me SO SO much! Thank you for continuing to support this mindless self indulgent work!

**the Path to Fate**  
  
  
-  
  
Apollo had indeed cursed upon Credence the terrible humidity and sun, it hurt his eyes and he clung desperately onto the cloak the Roman traders had given him. He kept his head tucked into the cloak, curling up his whole body under it like a stray cat hiding in the shade on Athens streets. The weight of the shackles hurt Credence, his wrists and ankles becoming raw from the abrasive metal rubbing against his skin. Even still with the pain encompassing him, he dare not make a sound passed his chapped lips, he desired no attention to be dragged upon himself.

The traders only gave him water when they decided so, giving him just enough to keep him from passing out of thirst, but his thirstiness scratched at his throat in worried need. The heat made him sweat, his chiton dirtied from the wooden chariot and the various other slaves they bought along the way to the ports. The other slaves were much bigger men than he, and many not spoke a word to him as he kept himself tucked away in a corner, silently asking the Gods for some sort of protection and even forgiveness—had he stayed for Thargelia and paid his respects as his always did every year, with pouring honey wine to the alters perhaps he could’ve stopped Castitas from her betrayal.  
  
The two nights on their way to the ports, under the light of Artemis, Credence permitted himself to have tears spill from his eyes; he missed Modestia, and even missed the temple; selfishly he kept his hopes up that she was on her way to Sparta and her freedom granted. Unlike he, that was on his way to be sold off in Rome as a slave, stripped of any rights as he was not a Roman People, and therefore, he was made out to be lesser than that of even gladiators.

What Credence feared the most in the day was the way the enslaved men on the chariot stared at him, their eyes said it all; it was sinful lust, the way Ma had told him in her daily orations, almost stripping him of his clothes with their eyes when they caught glimpses of him uncovered from the safety of his cloak. He wished he wasn’t cursed with such girlish features that fooled men to believe he was desirable in the carnal ways Ma orated to him every lashing he got in the temple. At this point, he would rather take punishment from Ma than to be seen as lesser than a person with thoughts; dreams, and yearning to be eventually a free man. He watched from his cloak, the path they took towards the seaports. When he was fed scraps of food; stale bread and cheese, Credence never allowed himself to eat too much; his stomach churned at the thought of eating as his mind was far too fretful to reason with food.

At the port, the traders ushered the slaves onto the boat, the sound of seagulls; merchant traders droll in the morning sun, out selling their catches from sunrise only gave Credence more worry to the trip ahead. He knew soon enough, as he caught the eyes of other slaves being sold at the port; he’d soon meet the same fate as them. Their nude bodies on display in the burning heat of Apollo’s unforgiving rays, holding signs that displayed their skills as men inspected them, drachma being exchanged for bodies made Credence shiver in fear.

He kept his head hung low, and with reluctance he looked back at the shore and land he had called home for so long, the taste of the sea kissing his lips goodbye with salty tenderness. He hadn’t been traded off to another land in his life; he was far too used to the temple and Athens streets to simply let go of what had entrapped his livelihood for the better or worse of his existence. Unlike the rest of the enslaved men that did their worshipful biddings to Poseidon for a safe trip, Credence wished for the Gods to take him into the sea, to either drown or be eaten by the sea monsters he was told of in his childhood. He did not wish for protection, he selfishly wished for his fate to be met in the treacherous sea, and to meet Poseidon himself.  
  
Credence wished to be reborn from the sea and like Aphrodite, arrive on seafoam to the shores, welcomed with awe and want. But that was Phobetor foolishly giving him faith, calling upon him in his sleep and cocooning him into false coziness of hope in the night. He kept himself hidden on the boat, clinging to his cloak, hiding away despite the chains that began to weigh heavy on Credence frail body. In the dark corner where rats tried to nip at his toes if he didn’t feed them breadcrumbs from the scraps he could manage; Credence didn’t shed a single tear as the days and nights melded into one in the same—soon it became weeks. Credence scratched his fingernails bloody in lines on the wood wall to make sense of the time that passed him treacherously.

The waves of Poseidon’s display of power made the traders on edge on one night in particular. Credence overheard the words shared among the men in whispers that a storm was fast approaching. A type of storm that the effect of Poseidon’s ire left pitiless seasickness in its strong wake to those treading the sea. No matter the man that had spent his life at sea, Poseidon was merciless. The smell of it made Credence wish he were dead, the mixture of vomit and the sour stench of slaves’ grime from lack of cleaning burned his nostrils.  
  
In the haziness that night, Zeus struck down with flashes and the rumble of his power made Credence whimper as the boat swayed restlessly in the night. He had emptied his stomach into a bucket he managed to find in the chaos and darkness; Credence was soaked in sweat as he shivered under his cloak. Then it came to him as he closed his eyes praying the sea would take him; the Oracles voice wrapped around him like vines, suffocating him...

 

 _In blood and gold…  
  
_ Credence awoke in his damp tunic, his hair matted and stuck to his skin uncomfortably from dried sweat, his throat dry and eyes stung as he blinked; he survived the night. The men cheered as word passed around that land was close, Credence shivered with averseness, he hoped so devotedly that the Gods would take him rather than mortal men that desired him for carnal reasons. But it seemed the Gods wanted him alive for other plans as the Oracle had predicted to him.  
  
The seaports were filled with sound and bodies; Credence clutched his cloak tightly as he whispered chants that gave him some source of comfort, knowing his fate would soon be auctioned off for the highest bitter. The slave traders pushed and guided the men towards a chariot, that would take them to an open pavilion that best showcased their worth for noble men to buy. Most easy trades were done at the ports, but from what Credence observed, the men the traders had grabbed were a higher picking; Theacles was a strong contender for sale, he had been a carpenter’s son in Athens, but he showed promise of being a good warrior comparing his skills to that of Spartan warriors; having wrestled most of his father’s debt in fighting. Credence had witnessed it before, Theacles fighting in the pits and winning against many strong men; he would make good for being a gladiator or a soldier for the Roman Emperor. Just how Theacles ended up being in traders’ hands Credence could only sum it up to Theacles soft heart to keep his father out of debt.  
  
Then there was Aetuis; a fisherman with a well sculpted body from loving the sea and its folly. Aetuis loved challenging others and once asked Credence to play Tavli with him, Aetuis lost against him but Credence would not ignore that the man was clever. It came as no surprise that he would eventually want to be traded off, he was riddled with debt and he was sharper than the rest of the men Credence met.  
  
When Credence removed his cloak for a moment to place the hairs that stuck to his forehead behind his ear, he noticed the purple marks that lined his wrists and ankles from the weeks he had them weighing down on his skin. They were raw from the rubbing of metal against skin, he groaned to himself knowing his skin was discolored in an array of hurt. Credence was sensitive to sound and touch; flinching every so often from the loud shouting of traders, nothing from his arduous journey to Rome prepared him for the assault to his senses. The stares that he received as he clumsily made his way onto the chariot; it was like a bull to sacrificial slaughter, the way men stared at him with greedy desire and women with envied disgust.  
  
He kept his head down but he could hear the voices taunting him, ‘Is that a girl or boy you carry with you…? A pretty Grecian _prostibulae_!’    
  
Credence clenched his fists with anger—he understood their tongue, read, wrote and even spoke their tongue; Athenians did not like to be taken as fools, and those that served the Gods were among the few that no honorable man took slight the way these Romans disgraced their own honor by speaking as they did.

Credence was tempted to speak out, if it weren’t for how his legs lacked strength from being on the boat for so long and the weight of the shackles as he tripped, his knees roughly grazed the ground. He let out a painful cry—he cursed himself for being so caught up in trivial Roman merchants and their ignorance.

“Credence, you forget to leave your sea legs back on the boat?” Aetuis spoke gently to him, in their Grecian tongue, his hand reaching out in offering.

Credence felt the heat of embarrassment spread across his face as his wobbly knees managed to get him off the ground. Aetuis’ calloused hand gripping his much smaller soft hand in a reassuring way that reminded him that he wasn’t quite as alone as he felt; the warm smile of his fellow Athenian made him nod bashfully, “T-Thank you, Aetuis.”

“Get on the chariot—time is not to be wasted when there’s money involved!” A trader ordered as they forced the group onto the cramped chariot.

The sun of Apollo was out and at the high point of the day; making the men in the chariot restless and irritable. All the noise of beggars, Roman people, slaves and animals made Credence dizzy as he wanted to shrink into nothing. Aetuis was kind as he allowed Credence to rest against him during their trip into the most powerful city in the world.

“By the Gods, why are you here, Credence?” Aetuis spoke gruffly to Credence, his breath tickling the top of Credence head. “Were you not protected by the temple keepers?”

“Ma… She did not desire to keep me protected there no longer…” Credence whispered back shamefully. It was unheard of for temple worshipers to be traded off so easily, especially in Credence case where he helped a strictly chaste and womanly temple.  

“Perhaps for the better, the Gods always have a way of tricking us Mortals to their games.”

“You think of this as a game, Aetuis?”

“Ah,” he smiled as he gazed up to the sun, “is it not a game when men worship the Gods and they cast us to other lands by trick or fate?”

“You say it with ease, are you certain you were not meant to be a philosopher, Aetuis?”  
  
This earns a chuckle from the man, “My, Credence; what have we done so wrong to the Gods that we end up slaves in Rome! It’s but a curse to live in the time of Man and Gods. Not even scholars or nobles of influence can escape the Gods games; nor the ones that are dedicated to offerings or spit upon their statues.”

For a first in many weeks, Credence smiled as he measured Aetuis’ words; they carried a weight to them but spoken so gently it could have been mistaken for a song. It hurt to smile with his lips so dried and bleeding from the heat and the salt of the sea embedded in the cracks. When he licked his lips he tasted the metal tang of blood and salt, blinking away the sweat that beaded off his eyelashes.

“Will you still pray to the Gods even when you’re sullied by men?” Aetuis spoke gravely as he finally stared down at Credence. “You are far too beautiful for war and much too good to be a _Pornai_ on the streets. Even the whorehouses here do not deserve your presence, Credence.”       
  
Credence couldn’t look away from Aetuis’ green eyes that resembled the brightest of gems given to the temples as offerings. “I… I do not have the answers you seek from me, Aetuis.”  
  
He chuckles, “Ah, perhaps if I win a game of Tavli, you will answer me that someday.”

Credence nodded, “You are so hopeful regardless of your heavy words, Aetuis.”

They smile to each other knowingly, and it gave Credence an unspoken reassurance as the gates opened to the city. Credence would be lying to himself if he weren’t awestruck by the beauty and sheer utter chaos of Rome’s streets and architectures. It was as if Gods and Mortals mingled in the place—there was an ambiance and energy that felt as if Dionysus and Hestia were mingled in the crowds. It was as if the people were celebrating their arrival as children ran to either side of the chariot with goats and sheep tagging along, shouting Roman words that were far too fast spoken for Credence to translate.

When he looked at the statues lining the main streets; the grandiose of the temples and how Rome had its own heartbeat far stronger than the leisure of Athens, Credence was gript and captivated by Rome. Then he saw as they finally arrived at the main pavilion; the place was lined in blood and gold.

Credences’ eyes widened as his whole body shook; his fate was upon him and of all places—Rome.       
  
  
  
- 


End file.
